


Mrs Hudson's Weather House

by Small_Hobbit



Series: At the Drop of a Deerstalker [3]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 04:38:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7876810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mrs Hudson had a weather house, although it wasn’t quite the same as the one Mrs Turner owned.  This is the story of a year in Mrs Hudson’s weather house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mrs Hudson's Weather House

**Author's Note:**

> Based on ideas from the Flanders & Swann song [A Song of the Weather](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_eT40eV7OiI)

Mrs Hudson had a weather house, although it wasn’t quite the same as the one Mrs Turner owned.  Mrs Turner’s weather house had a little man who came out holding an umbrella when it was going to rain, and a little woman who came out in a flowery dress when it was going to be sunny.  It had been a present from a nephew when he returned from a holiday in the Alps.

Mrs Hudson’s weather house also had two characters.  One was a sensible doctor who took note of the weather and went out appropriately dressed.  The other was a consulting detective, who went out regardless of weather conditions, but whose reappearances would generally leave a trail of whatever weather he had encountered on the outside. 

This is the story of a year in Mrs Hudson’s weather house.

 

**_January brings the snow  
A chance to throw snowballs at your foe_ **

Mr Holmes finally located the suspects part way through the afternoon.  Scotland Yard were on their way, but given the recent snowfall he wasn’t sure they would arrive in time.  He caught sight of two of the Irregulars and indicated to them to join him.  He explained the problem.

“That’s easy,” ‘Arry said.  “We’ll hold them up for you.”

He and Bert, his companion, started to throw snowballs at the suspects.  They retaliated in turn, forcing Holmes to add his own firing power to that of the two youngsters.  Fortunately the snow was plentiful and they were able to continue their barrage until the police arrived, who then used more conventional means to restrain the villains.

Holmes appearance, when he made it back to Baker Street, was sufficient to cause Mrs Hudson to huff and slam her door against him in disgust.

 

**_February’s ice and sleet;  
Slippery pavement you shall meet_ **

It would probably have helped if Holmes hadn’t been in quite so much of a rush.  Most sensible people, which included Dr Watson, were staying indoors whenever possible.  Holmes, however, who had been considering a particular problem for most of the morning suddenly leapt up and said, “I’ll be in the British Library,” and dashed off.

The doctor called out to Holmes’ rapidly retreating back, “Stay in the road, the pavements aren’t safe.”

He watched through the window as Holmes made his erratic way towards the underground station.  Then something must have caught his attention, or another idea had occurred, for he turned suddenly and the inevitable happened.  Watson saw Holmes’ feet slide out from under him and, without waiting, the doctor headed down the stairs.  As he did so he called out, “Mrs Hudson, he’s done it again.  Send Billy to give me a hand.”

When Holmes re-entered the house, supported by Watson and the page, he was greeted by Mrs Hudson tutting loudly.

 

**_Welcome March with wintry wind;  
Things will blow around you will find_ **

Dr Watson had gone to his club.  His attitude on departure had given Mrs Hudson the strong impression 221B had become temporarily inhabitable.  She resolved not to enter.

Later she heard Sherlock Holmes depart, coughing and spluttering as he did so.  She allowed five minutes and then sent Billy outside to check whether the window of 221B had been opened.  He returned saying it had.

About an hour later Holmes re-appeared.  Mrs Hudson heard him open the door to 221B and then shortly afterwards he ran back down the stairs shouting, “Mrs Hudson, Mrs Hudson, someone’s moved all my papers.  How often have I told you not to touch anything?”

Mrs Hudson replied icily, “Mr Holmes, no-one has been upstairs since you left.  I would suggest you either shout at the wind, or shut your window.  That is, if it is now possible to breath in your rooms with it shut.”

“Ah, yes.  As Watson would say, ‘Norbury.’”

Mrs Hudson couldn’t make any sense of this remark, so concluded her lodger was still affected by the fumes in his rooms.

 

**_April brings the sweet sweet showers;  
Keeping dry needs super-powers_ **

Powers which Holmes clearly didn’t have.  Mrs Hudson lost track of the number of times he returned and dripped all over the carpet.  Even when it wasn’t raining he still seemed to be able to drip everywhere.  Normal people, like Dr Watson, would go out and return a little damp, but the evidence of their return would remain for perhaps five minutes before drying.  With Mr Holmes the carpet had scarcely dried from the previous attack before he was back liberally spraying drops of water everywhere.

Of course, it didn’t help this was one of the days Holmes was going out in disguise.  So not only was his regular overcoat sodden, but Captain Basil’s waterproofs were only partially living up to their name, and the umbrella the elderly lady carried clearly had no function other than to annoy the landlady on its return by causing a complete spray of water in the entrance hall.

Dr Watson had suggested a bucket by the front door might help the situation, but Mrs Hudson felt the best use of the bucket would be over Mr Holmes’ head.

 

**_Detectives fear unkindly May;  
Too many puddles in the way_ **

The footprints told their own story.  Drying mud with traces of grass showed someone who had come in after it was dark.  Further similar footprints, more recent and without grass the same person returning once more in the morning.  Slightly shorter, but wider, footprints leaving a clear indentation on each step were again an indication of a late return.  These Mrs Hudson would forgive; it meant Dr Watson had finally made it home after a long visit, and one with no sign of a positive outcome – a difficult birth, but one where mother and baby were left in good health meant the doctor, however tired always managed the stairs with a slight bounce in his step.

But no more time for reflection, the owner of the footprints had returned once more.  Mrs Hudson waved her broom at said owner, who removed the means by which the footprints were made.  In doing so he poured half a cupful of water onto the floor.  Mrs Hudson waved her broom more forcefully and accurately.

 

**_June just rains and never stops  
From the umbrellas drips and drops_ **

Mrs Hudson had adopted Dr Watson’s suggestion of a bucket by the front door.  At least it served to collect the innumerable umbrellas which came through the front door.  There were clients, Inspector Lestrade seemed to be calling two or three times a day, Inspector Hopkins was a daily visitor, and even Inspector Bradstreet had called round once.  They all dutifully placed their dripping umbrellas in the receptacle.  Dr Watson was in and out as usual, and also left his umbrella in the bucket, although sometimes it was less than half an hour later when he was forced to grab it again, having been called to another seriously ill patient.

In fact, the only one who failed to make use of the bucket was Mr Holmes.  Mrs Hudson, therefore, decided to take matters into her own hands.  She stationed Bessie upstairs to watch for Holmes coming down the road towards the house, and Billy by the front door, ready to open it.  Then when Bessie shouted down “Now”, Billy opened the door and Mrs Hudson emptied the bucket, which had collected quite a lot of water from the various dripping umbrellas. 

“Oh dear, Mr Holmes,” Mrs Hudson said.  “I didn’t realise you were there.”

It probably wouldn’t have any long term effect, but Holmes’ expression when hit with half a bucket of water was well worth the effort.

 

**_In July the sun is hot;  
Take a brolly? Of course not._ **

Which was unfortunate.  After two days of hot sun, Mrs Hudson had looked at the sky and seen heavy grey clouds scudding across.  She decided to put her plans for the laundry on hold for the day.  After all, there was no point in washing the sheets, hanging them out, and having it rain on them, leaving dirty streaks which would mean the sheets would need rewashing.

Meanwhile, Mr Holmes had rushed out, calling as he went, “Glorious day, Mrs Hudson.”  He returned slightly over an hour later, to be greeted by Dr Watson, with, “Ah Holmes, I see you are wearing your latest disguise: that of a drowned rat.”

There was a small waterfall coming down the stairs.

 

**_August cold and dank and wet  
Lack of brolly means regret_ **

Mr Holmes had been caught out once too often without an umbrella and had come down with a cold.  It made him feel miserable.  It made Dr Watson feel miserable.  It appeared to have affected Mrs Hudson’s hearing, because she didn’t respond to Holmes feeble calls for assistance.  Eventually, when Holmes had been waiting for a very long time for some tea, Mrs Hudson arrived with the tray.  Holmes pulled the blanket tighter round his shoulders and coughed pathetically.

“Here you are Mr Holmes, I’ve made you a nice cup of weak tea.  Try and drink a little, I’m sure you’ll feel better if you do,” Mrs Hudson said.  “And for supper you can have a little beef tea.  I shall put together a lovely cold collation for the doctor, as I expect he will have worked up quite an appetite by then.”

She smiled brightly at Holmes, who replied, “Actually, Mrs Hudson, I’m starting to feel a little better.”

“Oh, Mr Holmes, what a surprise!”

 

**_Bleak September’s mist and mud  
Back to reality with a thud_ **

Regent’s Park was showing the effects of all the rain.  There were areas where the grass had been trampled so badly it was scarcely more than mud.  Inspector Lestrade and Mr Holmes crossed the park together, discussing their current case as they walked.  The inspector wanted to keep to the paths, but Holmes insisted it would be quicker to cut across the grass.  This turned out to be a bad idea.  Holmes was making extravagant gestures as he demonstrated his line of thought when he slipped and landed on his back in the mud.  Lestrade helped him up and winced as Holmes placed his muddy hands on his coat sleeves. 

When they entered the house in Baker Street, Mrs Hudson bustled down the stairs to greet them.  “Mr Holmes,” she said, “your outer garments are to make no further progression into this house.  Divest yourself of them immediately.” 

She waited while Holmes followed her instructions, presumably because she thought he would ignore them otherwise.  Then, when she was satisfied, she added with a smile, “Inspector, if you like to give me your overcoat, I shall see if I can brush the mud off for you.”

 

**_Then October adds a gale  
Just the weather for avoiding jail_ **

Holmes read the brief message a constable had brought round from Inspector Lestrade.  Apparently a violent wind had spooked the horse pulling the cab in which their murderer was being conveyed into custody.  Holmes noted the way the note had been worded and privately agreed with Lestrade in thinking it was no mere accident.  Hurriedly he dashed off his thoughts as to where the man could be hiding, and then, as soon as the constable had left, he donned one of his disguises and departed.

Much later the murderer had been caught for a second time, and this time sent to jail with an escort of extremely burly constables, together with the police horse which had a reputation for biting anyone who tried to touch either him or his driver.  Holmes made his way back to Baker Street.

On opening the front door he heard Bessie say, “Mrs Hudson, there’s a bush trying to come in the door.  What should I do about it?”

“Can you tell from the leaves what sort of bush it is?” Mrs Hudson asked.

“A bit of everything, I think.”

“In which case, give it a brush and dustpan and tell it to clean up after itself as it goes.”

 

**_Dark November brings the fog  
Not the time to have a jog_ **

It was, everyone agreed, a regular pea-souper.  Everyone also agreed it was sensible to go slowly and carefully when outside, to avoid running into someone or something.  Everyone except Mr Holmes, who wasn’t going to let a little thing like not being able to see more than a foot in front of his face slow him down.  So while others walked slowly, carrying lamps in the hope of seeing a further six inches, and tradesmen shouted their wares as much to warn others of their presence as to sell their goods, Holmes maintained his rapid movements.

By the time Holmes had twice been returned to his Baker Street home, having half knocked himself out by walking into first a lamppost and secondly a post box, Mrs Hudson had had enough.  Whilst the landlady distracted him, Bessie, the maid, pinned a note to Holmes’ coat.  It read, “If found, please do not return to 221B Baker Street, we’ve had enough of him.”  Unfortunately, it failed to work.

 

**_Freezing wet December and  
It starts again.  Isn’t that grand?_ **

“It’s been a wonderful year hasn’t it, Mrs Hudson?” Mr Holmes said.

“Hmm,” Mrs Hudson replied, shutting the front door which was letting in the cold air.

“So many exciting puzzles to solve,” he continued.

“Mmm,” Mrs Hudson said, watching the water dripping off Holmes’ coat, hat and umbrella, all over the recently cleaned floor.

“Never a dull moment,” he added.

“Very true,” Mrs Hudson took a step backwards as Holmes shook like a wet dog.

“And I’m looking forward to the new year, aren’t you?”

“Oh yes,” Mrs Hudson lied, as Holmes left a trail of muddy footprints up the newly swept stairs.

“By the way,” Holmes called out having reached the landing.  “Lestrade and Hopkins will be calling in later to join us in a little celebration.  Could you arrange a suitable supper for us?”

“Of course,” Mrs Hudson muttered.  With any luck next year would be the one in which Holmes was finally struck by lightning.

 


End file.
